


Christmas Ficlets

by deanlosechester



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanlosechester/pseuds/deanlosechester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was doing the 25 Days of Fic challenge, but got sidetracked by work and finals, so it's turned into the whatever-prompts-from-the-list-I-want-to-do challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hide-Bound Hearts; Mistletoe

Derek Hale was not good at Christmas.

Before the pack, he hadn't had a real Christmas in six years. But there he was, almost twenty-seven years old, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen while his pack watched Christmas movies and shoved cookies into their mouths.

Stiles stood at the sink, washing dishes and humming along while Cindy Lou Who sang about finding Christmas. Derek had fallen in love with Stiles two years ago, on Christmas Eve, while they watched the same movie and Stiles had complained about it not being as good as the original cartoon. He was rolling his eyes at Stiles, who was grinning at him, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. Of course, he hadn't said anything; Stiles wasn't quite eighteen years old and the Sheriff _still_ didn't trust him. 

Stiles was the complete opposite of Derek when it came to holidays, going into it guns blazing and taking everything in stride. Every year since the rest of the pack was sixteen, Stiles organized Secret Santa, decorated the tree he'd bought for Derek's living room, and made a huge dinner for everyone. Their first pack Christmas, Derek had asked Stiles why he liked it so much.

"Family holidays ended up being more important to me when I lost half of mine, you know?" he'd said, smiling and handing Derek a cookie. Derek never responded, just took the cookie and walked away, eating it just to chase away the bad taste the response had left in his mouth.

So Derek let him take over every December, enjoying the vigor with which Stiles threw himself into the holiday. This was the first Christmas since the pack had begun college, and Stiles had thrown everything into it; the house was covered in garlands, lights, ribbons, and lurking in doorways in almost every room in the house, was mistletoe.

Scott and Jackson had been caught under it earlier that day; they both refused to do it until the entire pack surrounded them and wouldn't let them go until they did it. That seemed to be a recurring theme--a lot of the pairs that ended up trapped under the plants were reluctant until the rest of the pack forced them to just do it, "it's Christmas."

He heard Stiles clear his throat next to him and turned to see him wiping his hands on his jeans, smiling up at him.

"You excited about tomorrow?" Stiles asked, nudging Derek's elbow with his own.

Derek feigned a frown. "Oh, definitely. I'm looking forward to the cleanup."

Stiles laughed, leaning further into Derek and looking around the room, lost in thought. His eyes widened as he looked up and spotted, right above their heads, a sprig of mistletoe.

"Oh," Stiles said, laughing, "seems like I sabotaged myself."

Derek looked up and, seeing the plants, sighed. Stiles kept laughing, curling his fingers into Derek's sweater and pulling him close.

"Come on, big boy, lay it on me," he drawled, pursing his lips dramatically. He tried his hardest to hold the position before his lips quirked and he started laughing again, burying his head in Derek's chest.

Derek looked down at Stiles' short hair and decided that, for once, he wanted to give something to himself for Christmas.

So he tilted Stiles' chin up with his fingertips, curled the fingers of his other hand against the back of Stiles' head, and kissed him. He felt Stiles' heart flutter and heard his gasp before he relaxed, flattening his hands against Derek's chest and leaning into the kiss. Derek pressed closer, pulling Stiles' lower lip into his mouth and Stiles shivered, sliding his hands into Derek's hair and pushing him against the doorframe.

The flash of a camera pulled them apart, and they turned to see the entire pack staring at them, cameras in hands, knowing grins on their faces.

"Come on, hand it over," Erica said, and Derek gaped as the rest of the pack each handed her a twenty dollar bill. She split it with Boyd.

Maybe he could learn to be okay with Christmas after all.


	2. Like Swallowing Hot Chocolate; Hot Chocolate

"Papa?"

Stiles looked up from his computer and smiled down at his daughters. Laura stood next to his desk, one hand curled against the wood and the other wrapped around her two-year-old sister's wrist. Stella was staring wide-eyed up at her father, thumb in her mouth, little blonde curls coming out of their pigtails.

Shutting his laptop and pulling his glasses of, Stiles leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees and grinning. "Yes?"

Laura opened her mouth to reply, but Stella chose that moment to pull her thumb out of her mouth and yell, "Hot chocwit!"

"You know," Stiles said, scooping Stella up and standing, placing her on her hip, "I was just thinking about some hot chocolate myself. Laura, baby, why don't you get your princess stool and get you and your sister's mugs out of the cabinet?"

Laura was off like a shot, ignoring Stiles' warning of "be careful!" He followed with Stella balanced on his hip, blowing raspberries on her cheek and laughing as she squealed.

When he stepped into the kitchen, Laura was climbing down from her pink stepstool, carefully lining up three mugs: Stella's, a tiny mug with a heart-shaped handle and little red hearts all over it; Laura's, a smug of similar size with moons and stars; and... Derek's, a large black mug with large white letters spelling out SOURWOLF (Stiles had given it to him the first Christmas the pack spent together).

"I think you got the wrong mug out, sweetie. That's daddy's mug. Mine is the red one."

"No," Laura said seriously, shaking her head. "I got daddy's. 'Cause you miss him when he's gone! I can smew it."

Stella frowned at the mention of Derek, who'd been out of town for over a week on pack business. She buried her face in Stiles' neck, whining "daddy" and curling her fingers into her papa's shirt.

"That's sweet of you, baby. I'd love to use daddy's mug."

Setting Stella down in her high chair and herding Laura into her booster seat, Stiles got out the necessary ingredients for hot chocolate. That is, he got out his necessary ingredients: hot cocoa powder, milk, and whipped cream. When he was halfway through heating the milk, however, a howl from the table made him almost drop the pan of milk. Turning, he saw Laura looking very angry, arms crossed. Her sister mimicked the look.

"What? I thought you wanted hot chocolate."

Laura sighed angrily, rolling her eyes. "We want daddy's hot chocwit, Papa. It's better."

"Bettew!" Stella parroted. She grinned, not having been very angry in the first place.

Stiles froze, looking down at his girls and frowning. "I, well. I don't know how to make daddy's hot chocolate. He never lets me watch."

Laura must have smelled the shift in Stiles' mood, so she climbed down from her chair and toddled to her father, wrapping her small arms around his legs. "I'm sorry, Papa. Make hot chocwit your way."

Stiles leaned down and gripped Laura close, squeezing her gently and kissing her temple. Laura laughed and went back to her chair, making faces at Stella and laughing with her.

Three hours later--after lunch and an exciting viewing of The Little Mermaid--the children were asleep on the couch, one on either side of Stiles while he dozed.

Another hour or so passed with Stiles and the girls asleep on the couch. Stiles dreamt, at one point, of the front door opening. He curled around his daughters as they napped.

The sound of mugs hitting the coffee table brought Stiles slightly out of sleep, but he just sighed and tightened his grip on Stella. A kiss on his forehead made him open his eyes, and he looked up groggily to see Derek leaning over him, a tired smile on his face.

"Mm, hey," Stiles whispered, reaching up to pull Derek down for a kiss. Derek mmed in reply, returning the kiss before leaning down to run his fingers through Stella's hair and--even though he'd never admit it--making sure she was okay. He'd always worried about Stella more than Laura, since Stella was the human of the two girls. Stella's eyes fluttere open and she gasped upon seeing her father.

"Daddy!" she cried, clambering up the back of the couch to wrap her arms around his middle. Derek laughed, holding her close and rubbing his cheek along her head. She loved it.

Laura woke up at the sound and Stiles felt a little lightheaded at the screams his eldest daughter let out. While he watched the happy reunion, he turned his attention to the table, where Derek had placed four mugs of his own--special and _better_ \--hot cocoa.

Laura, having smelled the cocoa, turned and squealed, jumping off of the couch and grabbing her mug. Stella followed suit, with Stiles and Derek joining them a minute later.

Derek curled his arm around Stiles' shoulder, pulling him against his side and pressing his nose against the spot behind Stiles' ear. He laughed, leaning close and whispering, "You really have to teach me how to make that hot chocolate. I'm starting to feel really inadequate here."

"Maybe later," Derek said, laughing. They had all the time in the world.


	3. While Time Stands Still; Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love snow for the same reason I love Christmas: It brings people together while time stands still.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to the most A+ roommate ever, Bella, for helping me out on this one. Super late, I know. It also kinda sucks but WHATEVER.

If there was anything funnier than watching a bunch of werewolves roll around in the grass, Stiles thought, it'd definitely be a bunch of werewolves rolling around in snow.

The sudden snowstorm the day before had forced Beacon Hills High to--for the very first time--cancel school, and since the pack had been at the Hale house that day, they were snowed in. Sort of.

The pack was getting cabin fever. They'd been sitting inside watching TV for almost two days, eating junk food and arguing, when Stiles finally yelled, "ALRIGHT, PUPPIES, I'm sick of looking at you, you're pathetic. Get your coats on. We're going outside."

Once everyone was safely bundled in coats, scarves, and gloves (Stiles made sure of it), they raced outside. Well. Jackson and Scott raced outside, with Erica hot on their heels. Isaac and Boyd just laughed and followed, while Stiles pushed Derek in front of him. Allison and Lydia walked out arm-in-arm, chattering quietly.

Stiles quickly joined Scott and Allison in an attempt to build the best snowman ever, but it ended up being the most horrifyingly accurate snow depiction of Derek Stiles had ever seen. Rocks curled down to form an angry mouth, mistletoe berries staring out from underneath two bundles of twigs that served as eyebrows.

Stiles turned, grinning, as Erica and Isaac fell in the snow, laughing. Boyd was trying to keep his normal indifferent expression, but was failing, and Jackson was almost crying from trying not to laugh.

Derek, however, was completely unamused, and stared at Stiles like he was entertaining thoughts on places he could hide Stiles' body. Hell, he probably was.

While the rest of the pack destroyed the angry Derek snowman, Stiles trudged over to Derek, grinning.

"Hey, sourwolf," he said, brushing snow off his hair. Derek nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing; just continued to stare at the pack as they ran around in the snow. 

Stiles scrunched up his nose at Derek. "What, are you not gonna talk? Come on! You just opened presents two days ago, you have the entire pack and a leftover ham the size of my torso, not to mention snow  _everywhere._ Can't you just, smile, please? For once?"

Derek frowned. "I don't really like snow, that much."

"Well," Stiles replied, "that's tough. Because it's everywhere."

Derek barely had time to snort before Stiles curled his fingers into Derek's shirt and  _pulled._

They landed in the snow with a  _thud,_ and Stiles had the wind knocked out of him for a moment. He kept laughing, though, tightening his hand on Derek's shirt and wrinkling his nose when snow landed on it. He turned to see Derek staring at him again, eyes wide and lips parted, looking at him like he was the eighth wonder of the world. He had snow in his eyelashes, snow on his cheek, snow in his stupid,  _stupid_ hair. And god, he was the most beautiful thing Stiles had ever seen. It made him a little sick.

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled, letting go of Derek's shirt to reach up and brush the snow off his cheek. "Come on, Derek. Have fun. Make a snow angel with me!"

Derek rolled his eyes but gave in, spreading his arms and legs with Stiles and making a snow angel. 

Derek would deny it later, and Stiles would never let him forget it, but he laughed.

After a few minutes they stopped, panting and laughing, and Stiles watched Derek as he stuck his tongue out to catch snow. 

Stiles stared for a moment before turning and propping himself up on one elbow, reaching over with his free hand to turn Derek towards him. His hat fell off, and snow began to stick in his hair. Derek reached up to run his fingers through it, and Stiles leaned down to press his lips against Derek's.

They kissed for a while, just a lazy press of lips and the occasional swipe of a tongue, and if the snow was seeping through Derek's clothes, he didn't say anything.

The  _smack_ of a snowball against Stiles' head pulled them apart, and he laughed, pulling himself up and grabbing a handful of snow to hurl back at Erica, who was laughing and wiping snow off her hands. He extended a hand to Derek and helped him up, grabbing more snow to throw at the rest of the pack. Derek joined him, laughing and smiling, and Stiles watched him because Derek smiling was the only thing he thought he really needed.

Because who needed a snow day when you had a surly werewolf that finally realized he had a family?

 


	4. Candy Canes and Silver Lanes; Candy Canes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits for the plot go to Heathyr and Bella, and additional lines from Bella. Because, let's be real, some things your friends say are too funny not to use.
> 
> I wanted to have Stiles laying on a pile of candy canes like James McAvoy laying in a bunch of roses like the UK Shameless, but that'd have been in poor taste.

All of Derek's candy canes were missing.

When they decorated the tree, Derek had bought _eight_  boxes of candy canes for the six-and-a-half-foot-tall tree they'd cut down, letting each pack member make their rounds and place them in the branches. It was something he'd done with his family, so he extended it to the pack. But slowly, they'd started disappearing--and no one was eating them. He'd have been able to smell it.

The candy canes had been missing from the tree for three days when Derek opened the door to the Stilinski household. Stiles had texted him, told him the Sheriff was gone for the day and it was safe to come over.

Stepping into the house, Derek was hit with the smell of peppermint lingering with the cinnamon-honey scent he'd always associated with Stiles. Following the scent, he ascended the stairs and lingered at the door, hand hovering over the doorknob, mouth going a little dry at the almost obscene sucking sound coming from Stiles' bedroom.

The smell grew as he opened the door and found Stiles literally laying on a pile of candy canes, pajama bottoms low on his hips and shirt rucked up as he writhed around on his bed to whatever song was playing, candy cane sticking out of his mouth. It was almost filthy. Derek shook himself and stepped into the room.

"Hmmm," he mumbled in greeting around the peppermint. Derek raised his eyebrow and closed the door, leaning against it and crossing his arms.

Stiles pulled the candy cane out of his mouth. "What?"

"You took the candy canes off the tree. You are hoarding them. In your bed."

Stiles grinned sheepishly, flicking his tongue against the candy cane in his hand. "Yup."

"Why?"

"I had to get you over here somehow," Stiles said, shrugging. "You've been avoiding me, lately. And I like candy canes."

"I haven't been avoiding you," Derek began, but a well-aimed candy cane to the head cut him off.

"Shut up, asshole, and come eat candy canes."

Pushing the candy canes out of his way, Derek crawled into the bed next to Stiles and opened one for himself, sticking it in his mouth and watching Stiles' mouth as he sucked on his own. He clenched his jaw when Stiles flicked his tongue out, curling it around the candy cane and pulling it back in and making a noise that had Derek swallowing a lump in his throat. 

He avoided watching Stiles after that, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling as he sharpened his candy cane to a point, and laughing when Stiles began telling him about how he'd convinced Scott--for five minutes--that there was a candy cane fairy stealing the peppermint from the Christmas tree.

"He was so  _mad,_ Derek, oh my god--I swear he was about to  _change,_ but--I just--" Stiles curled against Derek's side, laughing, tears leaking out of his eyes and candy cane almost falling from his mouth. Derek laughed and rolled his eyes, pulling his candy cane out of his mouth and looking at its sharp end, glad that Stiles had given up his weird candy cane seduction in lieu of actually spending  _time_ with him.

"Hey, you do that too?" Stiles asked, holding his own candy cane up to Derek's, grinning when they looked the same. "Mom and I used to swordfight with them when they got like this."

"Swordfight? With candy canes?" Derek replied, quirking an eyebrow.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and pointed his candy cane at Derek. "It is a sacred art. It is a dance."

"You watch too much Game of Thrones, Stiles," Derek said.

Suddenly, Stiles was leaping on him, brandishing his candy cane like a sword, and Derek had no choice but to raise his own in retaliation, dodging Stiles' swipes easily and smirking when Stiles grew frustrated.

"What do we say to the god of death, Stiles?" Derek teased, sitting up and poking at Stiles' arm with the sharp end of his candy cane.

"Not today!" Stiles cried, jumping forward, jutting the candy cane out...

...and stabbing Derek in the stomach.

Derek shouted as the peppermint broke off in his skin and Stiles practically threw himself off the bed in an attempt to distance himself from him. He just stared at Stiles, surprised.

"Did you just--did you just  _stab me with a candy cane?_ "

"No!" Stiles yelled, confusion and fear and unwilling amusement crossing his features, "I mean, yes, I did, but I didn't  _mean_ to, only I sorta did, I just got really carried away--oh my god Derek I am so sorry I just fucking stabbed my boyfriend with a candy cane--"

"Stiles," Derek began, extending his fingers into claws and pulling the broken bit of candy cane out, "how many people have you killed, exactly?"

Realizing Derek wasn't angry, Stiles began laughing, throwing himself across the bed and burying his face in the mattress to stifle his shouts of laughter. Derek shook his head and grabbed Stiles' shirt to pull him up, thumping him across the head and laughing when Stiles shot him a dirty look.

"Don't even look at me like that, you just stabbed me with peppermint."

Stiles sprawled on top of Derek, brown eyes shining with tears and a smile plastered on his face.

"If you don't behave, I might have to do it again."

Derek got stabbed with a candy cane eight times that night.

He deserved it each time.


	5. Dear Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dear Santa."
> 
> (AKA shortest saddest thing I've ever written and I'm mad at myself)
> 
> (Warnings for mentions of child abuse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got caught up in everything from school, but I still wanted to do the "Santa" entry. So here it is. The letters don't take place at the same time; they're spread out throughout the years.
> 
> Mad props to Heathyr, Bella, and Aeryn for ideas.

Allison, Age 8.

_Dear Santa,_

_I got good grades this year, so dad said I could ask for anything I wanted._

_I want a new bow, the one with the special notch just for my arrows. I want more shoes. And... I want to stop moving all the time. I don't like being the new kid anymore, Santa. Please?_

_Sincerely,_

_Allison Argent_

Jackson, Age 7.

_Santa,_

_I broke my arm in lacrosse, will you make it heal faster? I want to be the best. And can you tell me who my real mom and dad are so they can find me? I don't like it here anymore._

_Jackson Whittemore_

_  
_Boyd, Age 10

_Santa,_

_Do you think you could make the other kids notice me? I've been really good, I promise. I just want to have real friends for once._

_Boyd_

_  
_Erica, Age 8

_Dear Santa Claus,_

_I'll never say bad things to mom again if you just make the seizures go away._

_Love,_

_Erica Reyes_

_  
_Lydia, Age 9

_Santa._

_I want the deluxe Barbie Dreamhouse, a new Ken doll, and the dresses from Macy's that mother said I couldn't have if I didn't stop being mean to the other girls. I want the biggest Chemistry set you can think of, but don't tell anyone that I want it. That's between you and me. And I want mom and dad to stop fighting. That's a secret too._

_Lydia_

_  
_Scott, Age 11

_Dear Santa,_

_I really really really want a new supersoaker and the whole new Captain America series. And the Iron Man ones so I can give them to Stiles, because I forgot to get him a present and he really needs one. I want lacrosse stuff, too. The good kind. Mom got me a stick but it's not very good, and I know she tries but Jackson makes fun of me every day and I hate it. I really want my asthma to go away, too, so I can run more. I know I ask for dad to come home every year, but, not this year, okay?_

_Thanks Santa!_

_Scott_

_  
_Stiles, Age 11

_Please make my mom get better._

_GS_

_  
_Derek, Age 16

_Santa._

_I don't know why I'm writing this, but Laura says it might make me feel better. She says writing letters is good stress relief and that I need as much as I can get. I think this is stupid. You're not real and I'm a grown man, almost. I might as well be._

_Please give me my family back. I'm so sorry, it's all my fault. Just. Please bring them back._

_Derek Hale_

_  
_Isaac, Age 10

_Dear Santa,_

_I know dad says I'm always bad but I made good grades and the teacher says I'm the nicest boy in the class. All I want for Christmas is a big, glass house, one that doesn't have real walls. Just clear glass so everyone can see. I want someone to see so they can take me away and make it stop._

_Please._

_Isaac Lahey_


End file.
